Free
by Robindanewsie
Summary: It ends. It ends now. He can't take it anymore. It ends. He's going to be free.
He keeps his head down. He walks silently. His bag slung over my shoulder. It feels heavier than usual, even though nothings in it. Well—not exactly nothing. He's going to do it. Today. Everything ends. Today. That thought brings him comfort. But he can't smile, he haven't been able to for a while. But no one cares, of course they don't. Who could care about the—

"Circus Freak!" Yeah, that's him. The circus freak. The charity case. His back bangs against the locker. Aiden James gripping his hair tightly, nose merely inches away from his. "What's up Charity Case?" His sneer reveals perfectly white teeth. Aiden, the all-star lacrosse player. His perfectly styled blonde hair, crystal green eyes and even tan winning over all the ladies hearts. His need to be on top and popular winning him a place on Aiden's torment list. The number one spot.

"Let me g-go." His voice was low and soft, eyes avoiding Aiden's at all costs. His head was banged against the locker. He was used to it. He got plenty of head wounds—but that didn't stop it from hurting.

He was sprawled on the ground in a second. Laughter reaching his eyes. A foot pressed on his hand, someone kicked him in the shin. No one cared. No one cared about the circus freak.

He picked himself up. Trudging along the hall. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't keep smiling, he couldn't keep being happy. He wasn't. Everything had fallen around him, and no one cared. His friends didn't care if he was getting skinnier, of his he was always pale. His own father didn't care if his wrists were bandaged, or he had bags under his eyes. He couldn't—he needed someone to care.

But no one did. No one could care less about Dick Grayson.

 ** _~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~v~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_**

Things dragged on. It was dull. Voices called out in the air. Student gossip. Teacher lessons. Rude remarks. But he didn't care. It was that day. He guessed he felt a little happy. It would all be over soon. Everything.

As gym rolled around, he ignored the jokes and remarks. It was going to be over soon. If anything he felt a little giddy. As the waves of boys poured from the locker room, he lagged behind. His class was big enough no one would notice he was gone until it was too late.

He took a moment. Thinking of everyone. His three younger brothers, his two older brothers, his grandfather and father, his aunts and uncles, his team and his friend. Friend, not friends. Kids claimed to be his friend, to their parents. He had heard them at galas. Only to make their parents talk about how kind their children were to befriend a gypsy. No one was his friend.

His hands were shaky as he set the paper on the bench, tugging on the rope he hung. It was now. It all ended now. The hurt, the pain. It would all be gone. Everything. A tear fell, relief. He would be free, as he stood on the bench. He would be safe, as he draped the rope over his neck. He could fly again as he stepped off the bench.

It would be okay….it was all okay.

 ** _~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~V~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_**

Sweat glistened against his brow. Hands slapped against his back—voices called out his name. Grinning from ear to ear he pushed the locker room door open. It was another victory, he won. Again.

His joy froze in his stomach. His eyes widened, his chest froze. It was all a dream—it had to be. A nightmare. Screams filled the air about him, boys panicking as the harsh reality of what they saw hit them in the chest.

His feet weren't touching the ground, His neck done up in a noose. His chest unmoving, his blue eyes staring blankly ahead. Dead. He was dead. Grayson was dead.

Aiden's knees wobbled, his eyes began to tear up. His heart pounding. Grayson was dead. Coach Ream pushed him aside, a whispered 'no' escaping his lips. Coach, turned to the boys his eyes wide in panic, tears brimming in their hazel brown.

"OUT!" He shouted. "Get out, hallway!" Boys scrambled away, all too shocked. This wasn't real. This didn't happen to them. It happen to other people, poor people. People who were abused, people who lost everything. People who were—bullied. Aiden felt his stomach drop in a pit. Grayson was dead. The same Grayson he shoved into lockers. The same Grayson he tripped down the stairs. The same Grayson he taunted about his past. He bullied Grayson.

He couldn't move, his friend pulled on his arm, trying to turn him away from the swinging body. But his eyes couldn't move. Ream was reading a note, when the man's fist crumpled it. Tears dropping down his face.

"I didn't mean it." Was all Aiden could say for the next hour. As police were called, parents were called. As he sat in the hallway. His book bag clutched in his hands. His green eyes fixated on the floor. "I didn't mean it."

What had he done? The bitter thought repeated in his head. What had he done? So much grief. Barbra Gordon was in hysterics, shouting at Bette and Artemis as they tried to comfort her. Her green eyes red with tears, her father's words doing nothing to calm her.

"Where's my boyfriend? Where's my boyfriend?" She cried into her father's chest. The man trying to hush her. But he cried echoed louder. "Why couldn't I save him? Why couldn't I save him?"

Why had he done it? Why had Aiden done it? Grayson hadn't chosen to end it. He had been forced, by Aiden. Forced to the thought that—death was the only option. How? Why had Aiden done it?

He moved stiffly outside. He couldn't breathe in there. The air was stiff, the air was hard. His ears still rang with Barbra's cries. He needed away. He needed peace. But it didn't come with the sun. As Aiden sat against a pillar, tires screeched. A limo slammed to a halt, the doors flying open. Wayne tumbling out, his butler looking panicked and terrified.

Wayne raced up the stairs. Principle Sawyer rushing down to meet him. Wayne grabbing the man's arms, his eyes panicked—their usually joy lit blue filled with fear. Sawyer looked sadly at him, Wayne's eyes squeezing shut, his face contorting into the ugliest look possible. His tears trickled down. His knees trembled. Sawyer knelt with him, letting Wayne hold onto his arms as the man cried out.

"My son! My s-son!"

Aiden couldn't look away. Wayne was strong, it was known he wasn't emotional. But he burst. His emotions flew off the chart. His son was dead. Grayson was dead. Students, mostly Grayson's classmates who couldn't stand to wait for their parents inside looked on in grief. The girls held hands to their mouths and cried. Boys looked away, a few sniffling and wiping a stray tear away.

It all got worse as they others were brought out. The Todd boy numbly walking, his teacher with a soft hand on his shoulder. Drake broke away, racing into the butler's arms. Todd stood still, still in shock. His father looked at him, pulling his against his chest. His head rubbing through the boy's hair, as Todd cracked. As small sobs could be heard through the muffling of Wayne.

Tears finally slipped past Aiden's wall. Running across his face. They stayed there was his father guided him to their car.

"It wasn't your fault, son." He tried on console.

He shook his head, "I made him. I pushed him too far." He blinked, looking his dad straight in the eyes. "H-He's dead. What have I done?"

The air was thick, he couldn't hear what his dad was saying. But he knew one thing; he was a murderer.

 ** _~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~V~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_**

He had been a murderer for six days. For six days he heard Wayne and Gordon's cries. For six days he had seen Grayson's lifeless eyes. He had been trapped in a somber mood all day. His parent's tried to help him, tried to talk with him. But it didn't work.

He deserved what he got, at the hands of Todd. He had begged his father to let him visit the Wayne's. To confess to his crimes. They had been stunned. Timothy fleeing from him, small sobs echoing behind him.

Damian, the little four year old, looked at him with such confused eyes.

"He made Gwayson go bye?" He asked.

Mr. Pennyworth's face drained of color, as Mr. Wayne's did as well. As Wayne turned away from him, as Pennyworth's face sank into complete sorrow.

Jason's eyes glowed with anger, his fists balled. Tear slipping against his burning red face. He screamed in anguish, flying at Aiden lie a rocket. Socking his in the nose and gut before his father pulled him off. Jason screamed at him, shouting name after name—pulling against the arms that held him.

It was all his fault. Barbra wasn't at school at all Bette saying she was being transferred. Artemis began to look like death itself. Her eyes hallow, and skin pale. He couldn't stand it. So many people were hurt.

Aiden was observant, after Grayson was lowered into the ground. He stayed, to say what he needed to. He watched a muscular ebony clutch his fists, allowing an auburn haired girl with freckles to cry against his chest. As a dark skinned teen with blonde hair, bowed his head—mumbling a phrase in another language. A wildly freckled ginger hugged the tombstone. Crying as another ginger hugged both him and the grave. All the teens who stayed joined in. Artemis was there, she stroked the stone lovingly—before gently kissing its surface. She was gathered into the first ginger's chest, his freckled cheek resting against her head.

They moved away, through the spitting rain toward the manor, as Aiden took their place. He looked at the smooth stone. All that was left of Grayson. He fingered the rose he brought, adding it the many already left at the base. He smiled sadly.

"You—you always said you liked roses, I heard you talking to Gordon about them. I-I'm sorry. I really am, Dick—I just." He didn't know. There was no excuse for what he did. So he bit back the tears and continued. "You didn't deserve this. None of it. My crap, I'm sorry. It's my fault. But—but now I promise. I'll never let it happen again. I swear, you'll be the last. You should've never been the first but—I'm sorry. I ruined your life. Please, Grayson if you can hear me—please forgive me." He gently touched the script on the tombstone.

As he left for the manor, for his parents and Grayson's friends—a soft whistle met his ears. He glanced over, toward a small tree growing in the corner of the family cemetery. A melody tickled his ear, a small bird—a Robin possible sang in a branch of the tree. It flited over his head, dancing amongst the sky. As it flew away, happy—free.

'Some birds aren't meant to be caged'.

Was what Richard's tombstone read. And Aiden knew, he knew that was his sign.

 **AN) Bullying is messed up. Seriously. I'm sick of it. I'm done. We are all created they same. So why the hate? Why do people torment others? I've recently been informed off a poor girl, who has been bullied for a long, long time. Her tormentors,** **Schmidt, his friends, Torres and Garth** **, are finally being brought to justice. If you agree that what these boys did—picking on this girl for talking differently, walking differently, and dressing differently should be punished review with an 'aye'. Not every case of bullying ends with a casket—but why run that risk? If you see someone getting bullied, please step in. If you are a bully. Knock it off. Seriously. You don't know what lives you are effecting. If you are being bullied—please get help. PM me. I will listen no matter what. Tell a friend or adult. Don't let the bullies win, please. You don't understand how much I would cry—if a wonderful, beautiful/handsome, talented person such as yourself left this world. PM me. Seriously. If I could've been a listening ear to someone who needed me—I would. Be strong. I love you all. Don't give up.**


End file.
